


What a Coincidence

by notyoursherlock



Series: Peter Parker's Field Trips [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AcaDec Team - Freeform, Aged-Up Peter Parker, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Bucharest, Field Trip, Hydra Peter Parker, James is Peter's father, Kinda, Other, Peter Parker goes on a field trip, Peter is James' son, Peter speaks Romanian, Romanian is Peter's first language, Steve Rogers (mentioned) - Freeform, but he is there, everyone is s h o o k, field trip to romania, hes like.. 16 instead of 14, not Peter/ned, romania - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, there isn't much Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-06-22 05:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyoursherlock/pseuds/notyoursherlock
Summary: Peter was having a relatively good day when it was announced to his AcaDec team that they were going on a field trip.To Romania, of all places.He could only hope that nothing would happen.(Spoiler alert: something happens)





	1. Arriving in Bucharest, Romania

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This was a spam write, so it isn't very developed.
> 
> I will put the meanings of some things at the end, so I hope that helps. (Disclaimer: I do not speak Romanian, nor do I know any Romanian culture. The information in this story was found on various websites. I crossed information to try and make it as accurate as possible, but please correct me if I have gotten anything wrong.)
> 
> If anything in this story confuses you, such as something that happened or whatever, please comment and I will do my best to explain it clearly.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Edit: Kudos to Inquisitive_Moth for helping me!)

Stifling a yawn, Peter glanced at the wall, reading the clock there. Only thirty minutes left til he could get out of there.

“What is the heaviest noble gas known to man?”

_Ding!_ “Iridium! That was not the question, okay.”

“Radon!”

“That is correct, Abe.” Liz swapped cards, looking down at the next one. “What is the-“

Tuning her out, Peter turned to Ned, who was sitting next to him on the auditorium floor. “Where do you wanna go after we get out of here?”

The larger boy hummed, looking up from his notebook. “Delmar’s? I know we go there a lot, but its so good. Either that or the Thai place a few streets down.”

“Delmar’s sounds good. Last time I went to the Thai place they stole my money.” Looking at Ned’s notebook, Peter scanned over the scribbles and found a few errors. “What if you put a three way copper circuit here instead of multiple two way circuits? It would save time and power.”

Substituting Peter’s proposition in his mind, Ned found that the smaller boy was correct. “How did I not think of that? It’s so obvious I shouldn’t call myself a robotics master.”

“Everybody, look over here!” Mr. Harrison had entered the auditorium after leaving ten minutes earlier, and was standing in the middle of the room. Somewhat having their attention, the heavily caffeinated man shuffled a few loose papers in his grip. “I’ve been trying to for a long while now, but I have finally been given permission by the board to go on a field trip!” The room immediately jumped into loud, excited chatter. “I’m guessing ya’ll don’t want to know where we’re going so I’m just gonna set these down.” Quickly quieting, they all looked at their teacher with eager expressions. Chuckling softly, he continued. “We will be going to… Romania! More specifically, Bucharest!”

Everyone once more erupted into chatter, all except Peter, that is. He had been excited to go on his first ever field trip, but of course it had to be to Romania.

He sighed inwardly. Hopefully nothing bad would happen.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Turning in his slip and the money needed, Peter resigned himself to his fate. If he didn’t turn it in, he would be stuck at school doing nothing for two weeks. So, he may as well go ahead and go.

The trip itself was in two weeks, giving him plenty of time to get ready.

Over the course of said two weeks, Peter gradually compiled a list of what he would need. He also took precautions so he could smuggle stuff through airport security. It actually wasn’t as hard as you’d think it would be, and he had some trade secrets that made getting through security super smooth.

It was now the day they were leaving for Romania. Twirling his keys in hand, Peter parked his car in front of the airport doors and hopped out, shutting and locking the door. Despite what everyone thought, he actually did have a car. It was too nice for a high schooler, but not nice enough to draw any unwanted attention.

Opening the trunk of his blacked-out Chevrolet Camaro, Peter pulled his trunk and carry on bag out. Shutting the trunk, Peter walked inside the airport, scanning the large building. Seeing the platform sign he needed to be at, he began making his way over. As he came up to the platform, he saw a familiar yellow jacket and continued that way, coming to a stop and plopping down in one of the seats there.

“Hey Peter, glad you could make it,” Mr. Harrison greeted him, way too cheery this early in the morning. Greeting him back, Peter looked at Ned who was in the seat next to him.

“Watch my bags? I gotta go to the toilet.” Ned nodded and Peter stood, making his way back into the crowd.

He wasn’t actually going to the toilet, but he was going to park his car. After getting through the front doors and getting in his car, he began the painstaking process of finding a park. Finally finding a spot, he got out and locked the doors, jogging back into the airport building. Back at the platform, he noted that Michelle and Sally were now there, probably having carpooled together in an Uber.

Sitting next to Ned once more, he pulled his notebook out and flipped to the latest page, showing him his newest idea. As the two quietly chatted and took notes, time flew by and before they knew it their plan was being boarded. Going through the desk and stepping onto the plane itself, they took their seats.

Peter was in the window seat, Ned next to him and Michelle in the aisle. When he’d insisted in being in the window seat, neither put up a fight. Ned wasn’t too fond of heights, and Michelle didn’t really care. Well, thats what she says but he knows that she doesn’t like being boxed in.

Opening the slide, Peter looked out into the dark early morning sky. It was three thirty, giving them plenty enough time to get to Romania, get settled in, and have time for a little bit of exploring and eat dinner. Hearing the intercoms buzz on, Peter looked to the front of their section and paid attention to the flight attendant who was giving safety instructions. He knew all of it, due to being on a plane many, many times, but it never hurt to listen once more.

After the lecture was finished and done, he pulled his book out of his carry on and settled in for the long ride.

——————————————————————————————————————————

After fourteen hours and one stop, they finally arrived in Bucharest, Romania. Sore, the group of teens and teacher stretched their legs collected their luggage. Calling multiple Ubers, the group of ten (Liz was in London) split into three groups. After another hour, god it’s been a long trip, they were finally standing in their hotel rooms. The boys were in one room, girls in the next on over, and Mr. Harrison alone in another. Luggage haphazardly falling on the floor, the boys quickly chose their sleeping spots. Flash got the bed closest to the window, Charles in the one across, Ned in the third bed which was closest to the door. Peter and Abe chose to just sleep across each other on either ends of the roomy couch.

After settling in and changing out of their sweaty, yet comfortable airplane clothes the five teens went down to the lobby to wait on the others. Only having to wait five minutes for the girls and Mr. Harrison to join them, the large group ventured out to find food.

Wandering the streets aimlessly for a few minutes, the mouth watering scent of street food captured their attention. Following it, they found a large market, street food vendors sprinkled about the place. After many minutes of indecision, they decided on _sarmale_ , a very popular Romanian dish.

Munching on the delicious food, they browsed the supermarket and stands, oohing and awing at everything there. It was getting late, so they headed back to the hotel with promises of going back to the market.

Full, they all split into their respective rooms. Stripping and changing into night clothes, they collapsed onto their sleeping spots, quickly falling asleep.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The next day, Peter thankfully not having any PTSD included nightmares, they woke early and quickly went back to the market they were at the day before. Everything was the relatively same, but instead of the savory smells of yesterday, sweet ones filled the air. Various pastries and fruits filled stands, and they had no idea where to begin. Looking over the foods, they chose to go to a small neighboring café.

Seating themselves on the outside patio, the large group engaged in small talk as they viewed the many people passing by. It didn’t take long for a waiter to approach their table, handing out menus and speaking quickly in a foreign language. As they floundered, not knowing what to do (they hadn’t thought about the language barrier), Peter spoke up.

“Bună ziua! Cred că vom începe cu zece ape, mulțumesc.” (Good morning! I think we will start with ten waters, thank you.) The waiter beamed, probably expecting them to only speak English, and strolled off, likely to get their waters.

Well that was certainly a surprise. They all gaped at him, having previously thought he only spoke English.

“What?” Peter asked, shifting slightly. He didn’t really like the attention being directly on him.

“Dude, you just spoke another language, that’s what!” Ned was openly staring at him with an amazed expression. “So cool!”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?” Cindy was leaning on the table, desperate to know.

Not knowing what else to say Peter answered with; “You never asked?”

Michelle reached over and punched his arm. “So? These are things you tell your friends, doofus.” The hit didn’t hurt, but for his cover he rubbed his arm, pouting for good measure.

“When did you learn Romanian, Peter? It is rather, as Ned worded it, ‘cool.’” Mr. Harrison was looking at him curiously, as were the others.

Not detecting any malicious intent, Peter decided to tell them a true, non-jaded fact about himself. “It’s actually my first language, if you’d believe that.”

“Are you serious?” He turned his attention to Sally. “I thought you grew up in Queens.”

Feeling that he was revealing too much, Peter shoved that feeling aside. He trusted these people. They would never intentionally do anything to hurt him. Except maybe Flash. “Umm, actually I didn’t. My dad was military, so we moved around a lot before I lost him.” It was a partial truth. His biological father was technically military, and they did move around a lot. Just for different reasons. And he did lose him, but he should be somewhere in Romania or Italy.

“So you’re a military brat? That’s lame, Parker,” Flash sneered, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Before anybody could say anything, the waiter was back, this time with their drinks and the conversation ended there. Peter ordered multiple dishes for them to share and the waiter was off again.

They engaged in small talk again, talking about everything they had seen so far and what they wanted to do and see. It didn’t take long for the food to arrive, which they were all happy about, and their table was quiet as they took their first bites.

Munching on a piece of _friptură de pui_ Peter closed his eyes and sighed in bliss. It was nice to finally be in his ancestors homeland, eat their traditionally made food (he tried his best to make it by himself but it wasn’t the same), and speak their language. Opening his eyes, he turned to Ned who was on his right.

“Do you like the _coaste de porc?_ I do hope I got it right.” Ned hummed at his question, swallowing the piece of meat he was chewing.

“Yeah it’s actually _really_ good. What is it, by the way? It’s familiar.”

“Pork ribs.”

Ned nodded and took another bite out of his food. It was so much better than the ribs you got at the restaurants back in Queens

“So Peter, what is this?” Cindy asked, pointing to a large, coiled pastry.

“It’s a _papanasia_. It kind of like a donut, but it has jam and whipped cream on it. It’s really good.” Tearing off a piece, Peter showed her the jam and whipped cream before popping into his mouth.

“Have you been to Romania before?” Mr. Harrington queried, the most at ease any of them have ever seen the man.

Peter shook his head. Romania was one of the places they couldn’t go to. “No, but my dad passed many family recipes down to me.” What he could remember, at least.

The conversation was light from there, everyone participating. Flash, for once wasn’t a dick and Michelle wasn’t reading a book about human torture. Over the course of the next few days, it was somewhat the same. They would go to a small café or market to eat, and then would wander around, looking at all that Bucharest had to offer.


	2. The Soldier and Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for getting this chapter out so late! I kept meaning to update it, but never got to doing so.
> 
> I edited the first chapter for accuracy (you can read that again if you like, but it isnt vital to the story), and some of this one. Once again, kudos to Inquisitive_Moth for helping me with that!
> 
> Enjoy!!

It was the seventh day of their being here, and they were lost. They had lost cell reception and didn’t recognize where they were (Peter knew exactly how to get back but he wanted to explore more). Flash, being the stuck up teenager he was, took command and made them even more lost. They now found themselves in an outside market in a nice part of the city. Making the best of their situation, they chose to wander until they found a familiar landmark.

Peter strolled along the market stalls, his teammates close behind him. After Flash had gotten them lost, the others unanimously decided to let Peter take the lead for obvious reasons. Mr. Harrington didn’t put up much of a fight, instead choosing to go the logical route. The school board didn’t need to know about this. Seeing a stand with fresh fruits in it, Peter walked over, wanting something sweet. The plums were in season, and were looking very good. So, he got ten in a plastic baggie and returned to the group after purchasing them, distributing the fruits.

They exited the market, fingers sticky and tongues sweet. Walking along the sidewalk everything was normal at first glance. A sense of alarm came over Peter a split second before sharp sounds pierced the air.

Gunshots.

Of course. Something just _had_ to happen.

Eyes following the source of the noise, he saw a helicopter shooting at the roof of a building. As it shot, a figure flew through the air and into the tail, causing it to spin out of control and careen into the ground.

Falcon.

They watched as someone jumped off the side of the building, another sliding down it, and ran. Peter’s enhanced eyesight saw a familiar metal hand and long hair. All of a sudden his cover didn’t matter.

“Everybody stay calm! Get inside the nearest building!” Poor Mr. Harrington was doing his best to appear calm and composed, but the fear and panic was obvious.

“There!” Sally pointed to a near store and they began running towards it. Mr. Harrington held the door open as his students ran in. All but Peter, that is.

“Get in, Peter!” He had no idea what the young man was doing. Seeing Peter’s glance at the helicopter wreck, he knew what was going on in the teens mind. “It is no time to play hero, Peter!”

The young teen looked at him, eyes many years older than him. “I’m no hero.” Shoving the man inside of the store, Peter shut the door and shoved a bench in front of the door.

“What are you doing?” Ned screamed, pressed up against the glass. Peter looked at him with an apologetic face, mouthed ‘sorry’ and ran into the road. They were all screaming his name, including Flash, the teen not looking back.

Stepping back Michelle turned slightly and went into a run, ramming her shoulder into the door, dislodging the bench slightly. She did this a few more times, the others moving out of her way, when she moved it enough so they could get out. Bolting out the door, they managed to spot Peter in time to see something that looked like it was straight out of an action movie.

Standing in the middle of the street, Peter spotted a motorcycle a ways ahead of him. Backing up, Peter started jogging before breaking out into a run. Glancing at the store showed him that they were now outside, but he had no time to think of that. As the motorcycle began to pass him, Peter grabbed the handle and slung the bike around, it’s rider falling off. Leg swinging up and over the seat put him on the bike and he was off, going down a flight of stairs into a tunnel where he saw them go down into.

Folding in and out of traffic, he quickly caught up to the fight. He got there just in time to see a red, white, and blue dressed figure hop into a car and speed forward, a black cat-like person hanging off the back. Slowly catching up to the now swerving black car, he saw the soldier run to the other side of the tunnel. Captain America crashed the car through the barriers to the other side, causing dust to cover Peter.

He spit it out and kept going.

Looking past the car he was chasing, he could see his father had stolen a motorcycle, likely using the same method he was. Speeding up, he caught up to the car and went on the left of it, level with the driver’s window. Peter looked right and met the eye of the captain and winked, giving a sharp salute before speeding up further and getting in front of the car.

Halfway between the car and his father, the cat-like person sailed over him and pounced the man, only to be caught by the neck. Metal hand saving him, the soldier kicked him off and pushed his bike upright, still driving.

The three vehicles were now close together, all going at max speed. As Peter achingly slowly got closer to his father, he heard the tell-tale sharp whirring sound of the Falcon’s wings. Looking back for a split second, he saw that cat dude was hanging off of Falcon and was nearly right on them. Only a few feet away from the man in from of him, Peter concentrated on trying to get closer. He watched as a metal arm reached into a bag and threw a small metal ball onto the tunnel ceiling. The bomb detonated, cement going everywhere. Peter managed to get out of the dust in time to see the cat person flying over him, reaching out to catch his father’s wheel.

Before that could happen, Peter leapt up from his bike, grabbed their ankle, and used his momentum to spin and throw them back.

Continuing to spin in the air, Peter landed on the back of the older man’s bike, barely managing to keep his balance. The soldier was about to throw him off, but one look at Peter was all he needed to keep driving.

The father and son duo were reunited, leaving everyone else quite literally in the dust.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Many miles later, after they lost the authorities, the bike puttered out. Ditching it on the side of the road, they walked. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Two hours later they stumbled upon a sketchy motel. Checking in, they each took a room key and went into their rooms, locking the door. They stood across from each other, not knowing what to say.

“Peter.” The teen looked into the eyes of James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The only Howling Commando to give his life in the war.

“Dad.”

A few seconds passed before James’ stony exterior cracked, a smile shining through. Stepping forward, the man opened his arms and enveloped his son in a tight hug that was quickly returned. They stood in each other’s embrace for a few minutes before reluctantly pulling apart.

Peter sniffled, palm of his hand rubbing at red tinged eyes. “Fuckin dust in my eyes.” His dad chuckled, rubbing at his own eyes.

“Yeah, dust.” They both looked at each other and chuckled wetly. Peter slid the backpack he kept on himself at all times off, tossing it on a bed. Opening a side zipper, he pulled out a small black device, turning it on.

“Is that a phone?” James asked, wary. They could easily be tracked with it, and that was not a risk he was willing to take.

“Don’t worry, it can’t be tracked,” Peter reassured him, knowing exactly what the man was thinking. “I made sure myself.”

James hummed. Peter, from what he could remember, was always good with technology. “So what are you doing, then?”

“If it’s okay with you, there’s someone I trust that will help us.” Peter stopped and looked up from his phone.

“Are you sure? Who is it?”

A glint appeared in the teenager’s eye. “Of course I’m sure. They’re… how can I say it. Different.”

The fact that Peter dodged the question didn’t escape his notice, but he trusted his son. “Okay. Do it.” Peter looked surprised that he agreed so easily, but ran with it. Pressing a few buttons, the teen shut the phone off and tossed it beside his backpack.

“The moment they see that, they’ll be on their way, no questions asked. Should take him two days to get here, tops.” Peter rifled through the main pocket of his bag, pulling out various items. “For now, I suggest we wait.” He held up a plastic baggie. “I’ve got snacks!”

James caught the packet that was throw at him, turning it over in his metal hand. ‘Lays Potato Chips’ it read. He had these back in his apartment before everything happened. They were good. Looking at the second item that was just thrown to him he laughed. It was a cola flavored lollipop. Peeling the chip bag open he popped one in his mouth, flopping back on the bed Peter’s stuff wasn’t on.

A few days later of hiding in the room there was the sound of an engine outside. Looking through the blinds, James saw a very expensive, nice car. Snapping them shut, he turned to Peter and told him what he saw.

“Ah,” he replied, grabbing his bag. “That’s our ride.”

Relieved that they could finally get out of there but on guard of this new person who clearly had money, James grabbed his own bag. Following behind Peter, they exited the motel room. Coming from a stop a little bit from the car, they waited. For what, he did not know. A long moment passed before the door opened, a person stepping out. Their features had been hidden by the reflective glass of the car, so he hadn’t been able to get a good enough look at them.

So needless to say James was rather surprised when he got a good look at them.

Tony Stark grinned a wolfish grin at them, all teeth. “Peter.” He nodded at the teen who nodded back. “Soldier.” James stared at him before sighing heavily.

“Of course you know Tony Stark. It’s not like he’s _the most influential man in the world or anything_.” James gave a dead stare to Peter, who simply smiled at him and bounced over to the car, opening the back door and carelessly throwing his things in.

“Thanks for picking us up, Tony!” Of _course_ they were on first name basis. What else was he expecting? “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Yes you do,” the man snorted. “Happy’s flipping his shit, by the way. You should have heard him earlier, it was great.”

“I bet,” Peter laughed, taking James’ bag and throwing it in the back, slamming the door shut. “Oh! This is my dad, by the way.”

Stark looked James straight in the eye, unblinking. “So you told me.” He stared back, neither moving a muscle. The billionaire broke first, unable to stay still for so long. “Anyways, we better get going. We don’t want to be drawing any unwanted attention.” Nodding along, James slunk around the genius, eyes not leaving his person until he got in the backseat beside Peter.

Stark got in the front seat, pulling out of the small parking lot, zipping down the empty street. They sat in silence for an hour until the car came to a stop, turning off. Stepping out, James saw that they were at a private airport, a jet waiting for them. Taking a deep breath, he followed Peter to the aircraft, going up the steps. Looking around the interior of the plane, James immediately sat in the best advantage point, Peter sitting across from him. Stark chose to sit at the other side, no doubt keeping tabs on him.

After a few minutes the plane took off, definitely automated since he hadn’t seen or heard any pilots.

Grabbing his journal and pencil out of the backpack that he kept on himself at all times so matter what, he opened it and began writing, the occasional sketch making its way onto the edges.

He wrote about remembering a man by the name Steve Rogers.

He wrote about his time as HYDRA’s Asset.

He wrote about how Peter had always wanted a cat. _“Not a pet,”_ he would say. _“Just a cat.”_

But most importantly, for the first time, he wrote about the future. What he wanted to do, not what he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the fast nature of this story.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Here are the meanings, as promised.
> 
> Sarmale - cooked cabbage leaves wrapped around a variety of fillings, usually ground pork with rice and other ingredients.  
> Friptură de pui - roasted chicken.  
> Coaste de porc - pork ribs.  
> Papanasia - a donut-like pastry topped with jam and whipped cream.
> 
> Constructive Criticism is welcome.
> 
> (Chapter 2 will be posted soon!)
> 
> ((Edited for accuracy))


End file.
